My Name is My Bond
by SuccubusYuri
Summary: My name? It wasn't always the one I use. What's in a name? Everything. It is what I am. It is where I'm going.


I was the weakest woman in my village.

I don't share this publicly, of course. Who would admit to such a disgraceful history?

My name was Kharsa. I don't share this, either. This may be the last time I ever admit to the name.

As a child I was sickly. I am unfamiliar with the term the Mechari tending me in my youth declared me, but I do remember it made my body sensitive to heat. If you have ever been to Mikros, you know the terrible crippling disability that is.

I never saw that doctor again. My parents took it upon themselves to help me through it. Their choice was to leave me to die in the wilderness three times, but each time I would manage to get back to the village without their help. So while they were ashamed of my defect, they accepted my stubborn refusal to die, and endured my presence in their home.

I would grow out of the condition, I fought through it. But my weakness persisted. While the other children spent their childhoods exploring, burrowing, and playing at war, I was often forced into the shade, or into the libraries. The other children laughed at my weakness, and I swallowed their scorn. The few times I felt brave enough to strike back, I would be soundly kicked on my tail and sent home bruised and bloody.

Even as I approached maturity, and my childhood condition faded, outgrown as a pair of child's horns, I never could catch up to my peers. I silently accepted I could never wield the weapons of the hunters properly. Though I was to inherit my mother's blade, I was awkward and clumsy with even the most basic of melee weapons.

But for my weakness, I was accepted into the military. I was allowed to enter as a soldier, fighting the Empire's enemies. For all the Dominion's needs, it fortunately took little skill to hold a rifle.

But when my parents came to see me off, before I boarded the shuttle, my father stepped forward. I remember the glint in his eye, and that of my mother standing behind him. He put his hand on my shoulder, "Go with honor," he told me. A Draken knew he had wished me a good death. It was a certainty to him and my mother. My two surviving siblings probably shared their pessimism. As did I.

I was stationed on a far off fringe world. So remote that the Governor was a Cassian, not even a Luminai. I was accustomed to such surroundings, but my Cassian and Chua counterparts, even some of the Draken that my father would spit and call "de-clawed" from Cassus found the dark, grey world dreary. It was always cloudy, humid, and while uncomfortable, sleeping on the moss that covered the trees and boulders was a rather pleasant experience.

Though the Emperor had organized this little world, claiming it "Lias Nal", it was a frontier yet to be pacified. Massive beasts stalked the forests, and most of our duties were pacification of colonies of the dangerous beasts, who often preyed on the herds of Rowsdower brought in the early stages of settlement.

One was a tribe of winged snakes. They couldn't fly, thank the gods, but as they rose up to their full height, some three meters tall, their sides would expand, like leathery wings. Some scientists had written they were used to collect water in morning dew, but they made for a terrifying nightmare. An entire nest of the beasts had been discovered not a klik outside a town, and a young boy had been killed by one of them. An entire unit was dispatched to purge the nest, laying laser nets around the perimeter so none would escape our justice for the dead.

A few grenades were thrown in, signaling our attack. The beasts in their nest hissed and screeched at the sky. We charged, taking aim at the monsters. There must have been a dozen roused, several of them wounded. Our men shouted their response to the loud screech sent up into the wilds, a rain of blaster fire all around us as we tried to take what shots we could. The officer giving the briefing had said the snakes would disperse at the panic and confusion, unaccustomed to being prey themselves. That man should have been drawn and quartered.

One of the beasts practically leapt directly at my position, striking with its massive jaws. From what we knew, they fed on small prey, so their muscles were not very strong. It might have been considered a curse for the Cassian I saw swept up in its mouth. He wasn't killed on impact, but screamed as the beast reared up amidst the blaster pulses, swallowing him defiantly to our attack. But at least the monster felt pain, and it spun around, striking our squad with its massive tail as it retreated back towards the thick roots of the ancient trees that made up its nest.

I was rousing from the daze of striking my head on a tree, when one of the beasts caught me off guard. It struck at me with those jaws, and I heard the sick snap of a leg underneath the weight, but at least my arms were free of its grip. I believe I may have shrieked in terror as I lifted my rifle instinctively, beating the butt into the monster's enormous black eyeballs. It was enough to spit me out, but without the pressure of its bite, the pain welled into my leg. Still my arms swung wildly with my weapon, the gun reduced to little more than a club in my panicked state. This time the beast grabbed me by the top half, working my horns into its jaws easily enough, and I lost my rifle into the beast's wet mouth as I felt my ribs break from its bite. My tail thrashed outside its jaws, and I felt gravity spin me around. I was ready to meet my death, as my father had foreseen.

But suddenly I was falling, straight to the ground. The beast's jaws grew slack, and I suddenly became aware of a glint of light down the snake's gullet.

I felt a hand touch the base of my tail reassuringly, and the large jaws pried open. A female voice shouted at me, "Make lively, get out of there, soldier!"

I pushed myself out, and the world was foggy. I snapped my slime covered helmet off, and there it was; the massive beast's head, felled in a single strike like a butcher had carved it from its body.

A tall, admittedly beautiful Cassian was staring down at me, as she let the massive jaws shut again. I looked over to the side of the head, where a massive orange tether blade was still glowing hot. Looking back to her uniform, her emblem was that most like what I knew from schooling was the old Cassian Commonwealth: That of the Swordmaidens.

Her hand was almost instantly on my forehead, checking me over for wounds, "Can you hear me?" she asked loudly. I could only nod in response. She stood upright, calling towards the rear, "Medic!" she shouted at the top of her lungs, and returned to me. "Can you move?" I shook my head. She looked down to my legs, and placed her hand on them, squeezing when she found my knee was split apart, twisting the limb painfully, she stopped and withdrew her hand almost embarrassed. My face contorted and I could feel the burning heat of tears running down my face, as if this wasn't embarrassing enough. She stood up and waved her hand, and soon a female Mechari was at our side, a series of first aid tools along her belt and in a case.

The Swordmaiden nodded to the medic, and lifted her mighty blade, almost as large as her body. "I'll kill two more just for you," she said as she hoisted it to her back, and ran back into the melee, which was already dying down from the sounds of things.

It turned out a clutch of eggs had been discovered, likely the reason the snake beasts were more active recently, and fought so viciously. But all of them had been eliminated, sixteen of the beasts in total. We had lost four, plus those injured.

In the mess hall, I took notice of the maiden from before. She and her sisters tended to their own table. On most any other world they probably would have had their own mess tent, but as I said, we were a backwater.

I stepped forward, a cane was helping me with the cast around my leg. It would be a few days of regeneration therapy to heal that bone, though my chest was mostly fixed. The swordmaiden was distinctive enough, tall, even for one of her order, with long, silken black hair. Her eyes were violet, a sure sign of High birth. Her skin was on the lighter side, almost a sandy grey. No longer in her armor, she wore a series of bandages around her body, a tight binding, it seemed, with a casual gown, and her comrades were similarly attired now that they were off duty. I bowed my head as I approached her. Swordmaidens never lingered, I may never have the chance to again offer my respects as a warrior. "Ex-excuse me," I said meekly, trying to glamour her attentions. She turned her head from the conversation her sisters were having, and the table got noticeably quieter. I was grateful my complexion was dark that it would not show embarrassment, though the end of my tail curling about my ankle was still a dead giveaway.

Her eyes lit up as she remembered, "Oh, snake-bait!" she said with a chuckle, and a few of her sisters shared in the laugh. Apparently the tale of my rescue had been told already. "Are you feeling alright?" she asked. Only now did I take notice of the Highborn flavor to her accent.

"Yes," I said sheepishly, "thank you, My Lady. I just...wanted to say thank you. And I am terribly sorry for my weakness." Tradition would demand I bend my knee, but in my injured state, I could only settle for bowing from the waist as Humans tended to do in curt greeting or graciousness.

She shook her head quite sincerely, "Oh, you aren't weak at all, don't be so modest." Turning to the maiden by her side, she pointed a finger at me, "This one gets half-swallowed, and starts beating the thing in the face with her rifle so hard it drops her!" she mimed my actions with a laugh. Her head turned back to me, nodding approval, "No fear, this one." Her eyes seemed to appraise me curiously, as if trying to solve a puzzle.

She probably couldn't see me blushing, though I averted my eyes, "Plenty of fear, ma'am."

"Hmmm, then lots of spirit," she declared. "What was your name?" she asked.

"Private Kharsa Darkfire," I answered curtly.

"Well, you're very welcome, Kharsa Darkfire," she smiled. With another shallow bow, I excused myself.

* * *

I wished there had been privacy in the military. I know that's the job, but it would have been nice to have.

So you can imagine how fun it was sharing my tent with a Mechari. At least with an organic, you'd figure they'd have to go the bathroom sometime. But if he was off duty, it was right back in the tent.

I only bring this up, because his movement is what caught my eye reading from my little datachron on the cold, foggy world of Lias Nal.

As he approached the entry, there was the same swordmaiden. She nodded at him, thanking him for the privacy. I sat up in my cot, setting the datachron aside.

She tilted her head, her violet eyes assessing my body, "How's the leg?"

"Better, now. I've been able to walk on it for a few days."

"Good," she smiled, inviting herself into the tent more, letting the flap close behind her.

"Can I help you, m'lady?" I asked in the most respectful tone I was capable of adopting, mindful of the lessons my parents taught me about the Highborn.

"I was looking over your file," she said casually, "it said your mother was a respected huntress of your village."

"Yes," I said quietly, "she advised the Clanlord until I was very young."

She nodded, "I also noticed, you are the only daughter. Why are you not apprenticing under your mother, if I may pry?"

I bit my lip, but found no harm in sharing with the woman who had seen me at my weakest, "I am not worthy of her legacy. She ceased being one of the Clanlord's council because of me. I have done nothing but disgrace my mother, and her mother before her."

"Your size?" she asked, indicating my slight frame.

"While weak, I lack the real instincts of a huntress," I admitted. "I have no skill in combat. I can barely fire a gauss rifle. I made a mockery of my mother's blade trying to perform with it when I reached ascension age."

She nodded, as if pondering, "Surely you have made the most of your life, though? Your academic scores are quite high, you could be officer material if you applied yourself harder. If you cannot be strong in body, certainly you are strong of mind."

I shook my head, my leathery head-tresses swaying behind my back, "While Werza has been kind, I have not received Her favor," I explained to the tall Cassian.

"Then, what does make you a good soldier?" she asked, causing me to wince, "What good are you to the Empire?"

I clutched my hands to my legs, "I don't know," I said quietly, my head hung in my shame. A long moment passed, so long I was afraid she'd silently stepped out of the tent lest she catch my disgrace like a disease.

"On your feet, soldier!" the Cassian barked at me, and my training instinctively kicked in, standing upright, daring not to look into the swordmaiden's violet eyes.

"You're being transferred," she said in a sharp, no nonsense tone. Gone was the personable approach she had used before. "Tomorrow at daybreak you will report to the command tent. Bring your gear and effects. We won't be returning here."

"'We', ma'am?" I asked for clarification.

"I didn't ask for your questions," she half shouted at me, "You will report tomorrow morning, is that understood?"

"Yes, ma'am!" I said hurriedly, trying my best to sound brave.

* * *

As ordered, I arrived at the command tent, hesitantly stepping inside, the flaps still closed. But the sun was already rising...I think. It was difficult to grow accustomed to day and night on a world covered by grey skies, particularly coming from Mikros, where "night" to us was caused by one of the moons passing over the sky.

"Pardon," I announced my entry, "Private Kharsa Darkfire reporting as ordered."

I saw several Cassian officers, and two Mechari. The swordmaiden was there as well, looking over a map on the tactical table, "Ah, Kharsa, there you are. Thank you for giving her to me, commander," she nodded at the Cassian gentleman with greying hair seated at the table, our Comapny's leader Commander Ruthby. "At ease, private," she said, going back to her maps, "I won't be long,"

I nodded, setting my bag down on the floor at my feet. I took some time to look around the room.

"We should be able to make it to the fourth station point within two weeks," the swordmaiden declared, to which the Commander nodded.

"It shouldn't be difficult, unless you run into another nest of those...things," he said, sounding quite squeamish about the matter.

"That's why I'm going," the swordmaiden said. "I'll keep you updated about our progress."

Commander Ruthby stood up, saluting, "I'll keep in touch. Let us know if we can provide support."

The swordmaiden nodded, "Thank you, commander." As she walked past me, she nodded in my direction, "Come." Shouldering my bag, I hurriedly followed her out of the tent. Taking a good look at her, she seemed to be in her late 20s, maybe her early 30s. For a swordmaiden, that probably meant she was in charge of this backwater post of her sisters. Like many things Cassian, I had learned, seniority counted for quite a bit, rather than strength had back home. But the swordmaidens were unique, and probably as close to the Draken ideal in Cassian form. So if she was in charge, she certainly must have had some skill. That much, at least, I had witnessed firsthand.

I tried to keep my distance a couple paces behind her, "We're leaving in three hours. We're tasked with setting up a new series of observation posts. It's clear that this area of the planet isn't as secure as a green zone should be." I nodded, not that she could see, but remained silent. "Two of my sisters will be taking other platoons into the forests as well. We're going to map this area so anything larger than a rowsdower will be picked up on the sensors." She finally cast a glance back at me, "Until then, you and I have some time," she smiled slyly.

"Time...ma'am?" I asked confused.

We were approaching the Swordmaidens area of the camp, and she nodded, and she led me behind their tents to a small ring. It was little more than a clearing with a few makeshift benches set up in a circle, waiting for our arrival it would even seem. There were a series of training blades, little more than straight steel-forged swords, resting in a bundle. She lifted two up, nodding at me to drop my bag. I complied, and only barely caught the dulled blade in my hands as she tossed it to me. I clumsily let the tp fall to the ground, resting there and looking at the swordmaiden dumbfoundedly.

"Time enough for me to see what you're capable of."

I blinked. She must be kidding, was the only thought I could muster. She wouldn't seriously challenge me, even to a sparring match. "I don't think…" I began, laughing nervously at her attempt at a joke.

But her eyes were dead serious, and she lifted her blade level with me, "Take your time, and attack me."

Nervously, I swung my blade a few times. It was a bit heavy for my scrawny arms. I lunged forward, trying to strike her, but my blade was easily turned away. I gathered my wits, raising the blade again.

"You don't have to be afraid," she said, "I promise you won't hurt me."

I tried to strike again, but even though I felt it a swift one, the swordmaiden easily countered my blow. I could have been a grazing cow for all she cared.

"Alright," she nodded, and raised her blade into an attack stance, "My turn," her voice was dead serious, but she waited for me to collect myself. Once I felt I was ready, I nodded. And almost instantly leapt to the side, turning my training blade to the side, using it like a shield against my forearm, the force of her blow sending me staggering. I spun and dashed a few feet, keeping my blade downturned, pivoting on the tip in the dirt.

"Excellent," she complimented me mid swing, "ceding ground to a superior opponent, and using your agility on an older one. Smart," she smiled, and on the head of a pin, she reversed her momentum, and her blade caught me in the stomach unprepared. "But still lacking in practice," my sudden sparring partner observed.

I fell winded to the floor, wincing. "I...don't think I was planning on being a swordfighter, ma'am," I gently tried to remind her.

"Nonsense," she said, picking up my blade and setting the pair of training swords back in their stand, "I can't have an adjutant who won't use a sword."

It took a moment for my mind to process the words, but I did catch on, looking up at her with confusion, "Ma'am?"

She turned to look at me from the corner of those pink-purple eyes, they seemed to glow in the low light, "Did I use large words?" she asked teasingly, with this slight smile in her eyes. "You're to be my aide-de-camp. My personal assistant. My squire. My sparring partner," she said in as many ways as she could drive the point home.

My hand was still holding my ribs where she had struck me, but the pain was an afterthought. I must have looked foolish, because she knelt down to look me in the eye. The embarrassment of being so close to her made me shy my eyes away, which at least got my lips moving, "I don't know why I am being given this chance," I did my best to articulate the natural reaction.

Her expression turned befuddled. Hindsight would teach me that this was her face when she felt the need to be thorough with her words, "Because, my little warrior, you are a blazing comet, without her tail." She said. This only caused me to raise my eyebrow, to which she laughed nervously, "Apologies, I was trying to be poetic," she said, "I've always been told imagery works best in explaining things to Draken."

I remained silent, studying her face. She casually brushed a lock of her long black hair behind her ear as she tried to recompile her thoughts.

"I found you that night because of your scream. It was a battlecry. And your instincts are very good," she tried to explain. "Though you panicked at your brush with death, you never stopped fighting. And here, just now? Though you clearly aren't formally trained, you have excellent instincts. The gods cast your mould as a warrior, that much is clear."

I shook my head. Disrespectful and it may have been to disagree with her, "No, m'lady. I am a failure as a warrior. My life has taught me that much."

"Yes," she nodded, now taking a seat on the ground with me, an arm resting on her knee. "No one was impressed by your features because of how far behind you lagged. So they left you behind, to die. As nature demands, is it not? Those who do not keep up with the herd must be left to die? They never have been useful, so they never can be in the future?" her voice had a melodramatic flair to it as she turned to face me. She looked at me for a long while. My eyebrow could only raise in confusion. Cassians. They always preferred the roundabout route to whatever they were trying to say.

But instead of finishing her thought, she stood up, and began to walk away, pausing, "Lady Yuri."

"Ma'am?"

"If you're going to call me something, it should be my name, yes? Lady Yuri." My new benefactor left me in the circle, pointing towards her tent to indicate where I should follow when I'd collected my wits.

* * *

I had left Mikros expecting a shallow grave, or a token figurehead made of wood that would rot from the rains within a decade. The opportunity to make more of my life than that did not go unanswered. I applied myself as best I could. I studied sword techniques as part of my training, with no small share of getting my tail kicked by my superior. Not just Cassian, but Draken, Granok, even the Mordesh had an ancient tradition I had been surprised to find. And throughout it all, I trained my body to be powerful. A weapon on my own right.

Lias Nal had been a wilderness. Savage and untamed, my parents would have approved. I followed My Lady to her next assignment though, a more traditional use of the Swordmaidens.

This world was Ochrion. The Dominion ruled it, but the inhabitants, the rather large and conniving race of bipedals known as the Yarreh, were semi-autonomous. They paid their taxes, as all Dominion subjects did, and were a rather hefty exporter of food for the rest of the Empire.

My Lady explained that for over 600 years, the Yarreh had ruled themselves more or less as they had before the Dominion arrived. "Petty racial allegiances" she had explained to me, sitting in her chair as I made her tea. There were almost sixty different nation states on the surface of Ochrion, and they more or less ruled themselves. A body of these nationstates made up some kind of alliance which was allowed to handle negotiations with the Empire on official matters.

To me, it sounded needlessly complicated. Yuri had chuckled, "It sounds much like the Commonwealth," she observed, taking a sip from her cup with a relaxed sigh, "Unification is a stone's throw away, but they all like their tiny share of power too much to attain it."

The military was here on the Emperor's order. By request of the governing alliance, one of their nationstates had been displaying aggressive tendencies, particularly to the rather peaceful, and lucrative, nationstate called "Caerton". The Dominion would be here as a monitoring force, policing but not conquering.

We were sent to guard an embassy. I say "Embassy" like it was a small compound, but for governing a world like Ochrion, a Dominion embassy was a small country. All official business came through its doors, and for an entire planet that was indeed quite a bit of business.

That was when the war started. The politics were simple. The Dominion did not interfere with the internal affairs of Ochrion. Doing such would jeopardize the treaty that existed.

Yuri threw her hand across a briefing table, knocking several datachrons over the side in an unceremonious pile, "Who gives a holy damn if they want our help, they need our help!"

"Our orders remain," the general in charge of this operation stated. An elderly Cassian woman, Prudence Nylith, I believe her name was. "We are not to engage in any action that appears out of our established bounds."

Yuri was not deterred, the fire had taken hold of her eyes as she clenched the table, "Torture, slavery, mass rape, what's next for our little friends from Tiutam? Maybe they'll start skinning dissenters alive next!"

"High Command has made our stance clear," the general rebuffed, simply folding her arms across her chest, not to be budged, "Ochrion's Writ of Autonomy forbids us from taking action without the express approval of the Tyvlet here on Ochrion, or from the Emperor himself. Preferably, both."

I keep my eyes down as the officers argued. The Swordmaidens were unbound by the rules of High Command. Lady Yuri knew that she had every right to attack with what Swordmaidens were stationed here, along with any Legion troops with them. But without the support of the rank and file, it was a fool's errand.

But My Lady was not alone as she was on Lias Nal, and another Swordmaiden, a rather demure woman with blazing red hair, spoke from behind Yuri, "We should at least discuss how best to handle refugees. Any word from the diplomatic corps?"

"They haven't decided to act yet," the general sighed, "So we are still at bare minimum humanitarian aid. Wounded are given medical treatment, the rest need to move on."

"What about Imperial interests?" Yuri asked, "Have you heard the rhetoric these people are using? They want secession!"

"Rhetoric is rhetoric," the redhead swordmaiden said quietly, "We can't punish political factions for using rhetoric to rally a cause. There would be no time for anything else. But until they fire on Dominion citizens, it isn't our problem."

"So killing Dominion subjects by the thousands is fine with us?"

"Commander," the general tapped a finger against her arm, "I think you should take a break, you're becoming irrational."

A middle aged man, a colonel, stepped forward. From what I'd gathered, he had been in charge of the military detachment stationed here before the situation became political, "You'll learn on Ochrion that the Yarreh love the sound of secession on their lips, and impudence towards their betters is a passtime," he spoke rather casually, in about as thick a Highborn accent as one could own, "Those refugees out there aren't innocents, they're just on the losing side."

Time would prove My Lady more correct than her colleagues. The refugees continued piling up on the outside of the embassy's borders. Being a small nation of its own right, the forces stationed spent most of their time patrolling the fences. The kinder amongst the legions would hand out spare rations to the children.

But only a week later did the separatist Tiutam forces arrived on the outskirts of the compound. They were sweeping through the region with a purpose. Though intelligence was limited, it was assumed in their anti-imperial zeal that those fleeing them were loyalists to the Empire.

We assembled at the outer border of the compound, Swordmaidens, Legionnaires, and standard infantry all mixed into a wall of weapons and muscle. Like farmers guarding their crops from traveling locusts, we'd keep our vigil as long as was necessary.

The rebels didn't have much in terms of fear. Yarreh were physically imposing. Broad shouldered males and females, with large black-feathered wings for arms. Mostly vestigal, they were unable to fly, but still quite large and an extra limb in a fist fight. Their skin reminded me of my own, multicolored with armored pieces, likely a defense against the shifting sands of this region.

Panic had gripped many of the refugees, but we were still unable to act. Soldiers stormed towards the gates, and most of the soldiers readied their weapons. Loudspeakers continued to broadcast the Dominion's official neutrality in the conflict in both galactic common and the local dialect. But these weren't a trained military, they were basically a gang. Those who resisted the advance were shot, left to die in the dirt. Those more docile and the children were rounded up. The elderly were given an unceremonious beating. It was a mass panic with many still shaking the fences hoping to get inside.

"This is wrong," came a Cassian voice from the soldier next to me, obscured by her helmet, but clearly shaking with anticipation that at any moment the situation would turn into a fight between us and them.

A large Draken male on her opposite side lowered his weapon, "We should be making corpses of these rebels for attacking civilians."

Similar murmurs arose from the soldiers. The officers tried to hush the sympathetic observations, but they were little help.

I stood to the side of My Lady, who clenched her fist, "Why doesn't Nylith let us move? We can save those people."

My predator's gaze turned to the fence. A group of three soldiers had a woman cornered. She swung a fist towards her attackers, striking well as one of her assailants fell back, but the others overwhelmed her. The one she had punched regained herself and began kicking the resistor in the ribs, the trio having a good laugh at the woman they had on the ground. It wasn't the only display along the wall, but it was the one my eyesight had zeroed in on. I watched this for far longer than I wished. The civilian turning from quiet resistance, to holding her hands up for protection, and then for mercy. Each change was greeted with the same brutality. My ears flooded with the sounds of my comrades, muttering their scowls of disapproval, "Let us help them!", "Rebels bad, have one in crosshairs already. Fire tank yet?", "Somebody make a decision already." "Why don't those Highborn bureaucrats let us do what's right?" Each voice seemed to match the kicks and strikes with their rifles that the soldiers inflicted on the woman.

Until one of their heads went flying, blood spraying from her now empty neck. Blood that sprayed into my vision, blinding my right eye. I don't remember the run, nor the leap over the fence. Only the rage that clouded my vision as I glowered at the two remaining soldiers at this section of the wall. Another pair of swift strikes and her companion was down, a burly male who would be buried with one arm shorter than the other.

I went reeling from the blow to the back of my head. Then I heard the loud clash as a blaster bolt hit polarized metal.

My Lady was standing over me, using her blade as a shield for my body. Without even seeing the following strike, the final soldier was separated from his body below the shoulders. She only spared me a second of her time, but her face brimmed with pride as she looked down at me, purple-black blood coating half my face.

That was when the rebels turned their attention on us. A few of the ones closeby began firing blasters at close range. My Lady was swift with how she curled behind her blade, and I set my own, smaller blade at an angle, providing us with a small barrier.

But it had already begun. Stray shots entered the embassy and the Empire responded with its customary one-sided response. Tanks opened fire on the columns of rebels, and the gates opened to allow those refugees who hadn't been captured yet inside, out of the line of fire. A Chua and Draken came to our position, the former tossed over the fence by his companion, who leapt over taking shelter behind our makeshift barrier. The pair of them provided some blaster cover. The Chua tossed us a small hyper-shield device, to energize our personal shields for a short period of time. Accepting it graciously, My Lady charged hers first, then I used what was left on my own. Plucking the blades from the dirt, we rushed forward into the mass of enemies before us, Legionnaires and soldiers and Swordmaidens alike joining the charge.

* * *

By some miracle, no one had been able to identify which soldier had started the hostilities. Even the description of a blade wielding Draken was too many to count. And of course the refugees, who had now been allowed in the embassy grounds, blamed the rebels for firing the first shot, confusing matters more.

My Lady said few words to me. I cannot remember if she had said a single thing to me at all until we entered her private tent. I fully expected her to by the time I closed the tent, and walked over to the tea kettle, and brought out the cup from its place under the table. I could feel her pink-lavender eyes on me, before she finally broke the awkward silence.

"You did well."

"Thank you, My Lady," I said quietly, still turned away.

"You changed the universe today," she said with a grin in her voice.

"I...acted irrationally. I am sorry, My Lady, for the trouble I caused. I did nothing special."

"No, maybe not," she said, and I heard her feet plop onto the tabletop, "Perhaps someone else would have started it. Perhaps the rebels would have grown drunk with power and fired on us anyway. Or perhaps politicians would have had their way and 814 people would be in chains this evening or rotting in the arid wastes."

"I am sorry for being impulsive. I don't...I don't even remember deciding to charge."

"You acted unbecoming of someone who wishes to join the Legion one day. Legionnaires must be steady, part of the unit, so that they may be a beacon to every corner of the galaxy. They must be pillars of discipline for the community."

"I am sorry, My Lady," I answered as the heating kettle came to a boil.

I heard her smile with a gentle coo, "You would be wasted on being a servant of light."

I paused, finally turning to look at her, "Lady Yuri?"

"Being part of a group isn't always right," she said quietly, her gaze casting down as she reflected, "so many become afraid of upsetting the group that they stay quiet. That they watch, when they should act. Chaos can be a force for good." She looked up at me, as if seeing my body for the first time, "you do look like an old demon from the books, don't you?"

"A...demon?" I asked, unsure if I was receiving a compliment.

My Lady stood up at this point, walking over and nodding, "Yes...but what kind of demon would you make. Something pleasant, at least. Your form is far too pleasing to be something disgusting," she teased, walking over to her small collection of books. Lady Yuri was quite an avid reader of the apocryphal material to the Vigilant Church, many old codices of the ancient religions of Cassus that most had abandoned. But My Lady insisted they were relevant so long as the Vigilant Church drew on its imagery of angels and light. She thumbed through a volume, finding an entry she was looking for as I brought her her tea, "Aha!" she smiled, pointing at a picture for me to inspect. I studied it closer, a female form with a claw-like hand. Her face was gentle, a rather Human standard of beauty, but her body was more akin to my own.

"What is that?" I asked.

"A succubus," she smiled. "In the ancient religion they were embodiments of lust, but over time became symbols of rebellion. Of going against the grain, even against others of darkness. They walk paths not entirely of dark, nor of light. And quite pleasant," she finished, shutting the book and accepting her cup. "Even if they do toy with their inferiors for fun."

My eyes narrowed, but I kept my mouth shut. I couldn't help but feel she was projecting something onto me.

As casually as she sipped the cup, she set it down, her voice calm, "Kneel."

Unsure, but obeying, I knelt down on a knee in the middle of the tent. My Lady picked up her sword and held it to my neck, gently stroking the heavy blade against my skin, her expertise managing that she drew only the tiniest of blood, waiting for it to pool on the blade and drip down before continuing, "Kharsa Darkfire is dead," she declared.

My heart was racing. I understood what she was doing, I'd seen it twice already. She was mimicking an induction ceremony. A Draken would never be a Swordmaiden, of course. That would be ridiculous. But this...it was a private acknowledgment on her part. I had proven myself over the past few years to join her clan. In spirit, if never in blood or deed.

"Who rises in her place?" she asked me.

"My name?" I asked quietly. I had never actually thought about the subject. But very quickly I blushed, doing my best to stand on ceremony with My Lady, "May I...that is.." I fumbled for the words on how to politely ask, but shook my head. I would do as expected of a champion. I raised my head, looking squarely into her eyes. "Yuri."

She seemed taken aback, and for a few seconds, I felt I'd made an awfully insulting gesture. Cassian culture was...odd. Her voice turned quiet, demure, "My name?"

"My father and mother gave me breath, but it was Yuri that gave me life," I said, trying to make sure my voice wouldn't waver, lest My Lady think my gesture wasn't in earnest. "Everything that I become will be because of her. I want the galaxy...I want the Scions themselves to know it."

A few more agonizing seconds passed. I could feel the insects beneath the dirt crawling about, disrupting the tension in the tent. But, eventually, My Lady smiled, and nodded.

* * *

My Lady resides on Cassus today, as I'm sure you know. The Emperor left her order to police Meridia. But I have come to Nexus, the world of her gods, in her name.

I will help conquer this world in her name. You can help, or get out of the way.


End file.
